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Robbie Williams’ Unique Biopic ‘Better Man’ Explores Fame and Identity

In a fascinating take on his life experiences, Robbie Williams claims to have aspired to be a lion—a symbol of strength, respect, and fear—embodied by the big cat tattooed on his right shoulder. Reflecting on the eternal quest for self-worth, he states, “I WAS A LION!” However, in the new musical biopic Better Man, directed by Michael Gracey, known for his work on The Greatest Showman, Williams is portrayed not as the king of the jungle but as a cartoonish CGI chimpanzee.

This creative choice means that while Better Man traverses the typical narrative of a biopic—covering themes such as an absent father, childhood struggles, low self-esteem, and escapism through drugs and casual relationships—it infuses a refreshing layer of absurdity. The film mirrors Williams’ multifaceted persona, capturing the humorous, poignant, and at times narcissistic aspects of his life. But what motivates the decision to depict Robbie Williams as a CGI animal when other recent biopics, like Rocketman and Bohemian Rhapsody, feature their iconic subjects as glamorous figures?

Williams himself acknowledges, “Let’s face it, a Robbie Williams biopic without the monkey is way less appealing.” He recognizes that while the narrative may resonate with his fans, it wouldn’t capture the interest of a broader audience without the unique twist. Scenes from the film include outrageous moments such as a chimpanzee mimicking drug use and mischief in nightlife, a stark contrast to other biographical portrayals.

Despite his earlier reservations about how he might be portrayed, Williams has long viewed himself as a “performing monkey” since his rise with Take That at the age of 16. Sitting comfortably in a hotel suite in London, Williams, who now exudes confidence, admits to feeling “stunted” at times, reflecting on his complex relationship with fame and identity. At 50 years old, he navigates the demands of an intense promotional schedule alongside family life with his actress wife, Ayda Field, and their four children.

Gracey, looking relaxed yet reminiscent of an early yoga-era Chris Martin, discusses how the film’s jarring concept initially terrified potential financiers. “Convincing financiers was really hard,” he recalls, humorously noting how the pitch often met with disbelief when they presented the unconventional central character. “When it came to the monkey, many meetings ended abruptly.”

Both Williams and Gracey share a lively rapport, often breaking into laughter about the absurdity of their project. Williams delights in drawing focus, revealing his need for attention: “I am a professional attention seeker. Without attention, I cease to exist.” This relationship with fame, coupled with the darker themes of his life, serves as the backbone of Better Man, illustrating its toll on his mental health and personal relationships.

Through striking imagery, including a scene where Williams battles addiction, the film does not shy away from uncomfortable truths. Gracey acknowledges the challenging material, stating that Williams maintained creative control, ensuring the film remained an authentic representation of his experiences. “To Rob’s credit, he didn’t change one frame of the film,” Gracey emphasizes.

One of the poignant aspects of the film involves Williams’ relationship with All Saints’ Nicole Appleton. Their romance, celebrated and complicated, is depicted through a dazzling musical number that contrasts with later revelations of tremendous emotional pressure Appleton faced regarding an unexpected pregnancy. Williams acknowledges the gravity of these scenes and insists on respecting his partner’s voice in the process. “Unless Nicole was on board that wasn’t something we could do,” he asserts.

The dialogue surrounding the pressures faced by pop stars in the ’90s and 2000s has evolved, especially following recent tragedies in the music industry. While Williams remains hopeful for a transformational shift that would benefit current artists, he acknowledges that it is essential to balance reflection with compassion. “What we didn’t know back then I don’t think we can be held accountable for…,” he offers insightfully.

Williams’ candid examination of his past explores the isolation he experienced during his time in Take That. He equates the overwhelming sensations of fame to substance use, revealing that his experiences, much like drugs, provided both enlightenment and confusion. Elaborating on the dynamics within Take That, Williams suggests that it played into the broader narrative of vulnerability among young musicians navigating the ruthless entertainment industry.

The portrayal of various figures in Williams’ life, including his father and former manager, shifts throughout the film. Williams humorously claims the title of the main villain in his own story, insisting that his struggles are integral to the narrative. However, the complexity of human relationships and challenges faced within the band adds layers to the character dynamics depicted.

His experiences with Take That, highlighted in exhilarating sequences, reveal the excitement and camaraderie of those early years, especially during their performances in accepting environments like gay clubs—a stark contrast to Williams’ upbringing. He embraces nostalgic reflections on those times filled with laughter, acceptance, and safety.

Rumors regarding Williams’s sexuality are acknowledged in the film, yet he articulates a nuanced understanding of identity. Looking back on assertions made in the media, he openly discusses his frustration at the inaccuracies, sharing his desire to protect his authenticity while simultaneously being an ally. Expressing a lightheartedness about the debate, he quips, “Honestly, you’ve never met somebody that wants to be gay as much as me.”

As he navigates life, the father of four now views his career as a job more than a magical quest. With a sense of maturity, Williams reflects on how he has shifted his perspective, assuring that sustaining his work comes with the need for a healthy mindset. “This is my job – and I fucking love it,” he concludes with a characteristic smile.

Source
www.theguardian.com